


Memories of Flight.

by BarPurple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dreams in which he's flying are the worst he's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Flight.

**Author's Note:**

> written for this prompt : http://putthepromptsonpaper.tumblr.com/post/79789758180/your-character-is-flying

From his vantage point he marvels at his Father’s Garden; a single sand grain of perfect order on a beach of unrelenting chaos. From this height it looks so very simple. This is not the best way to view the complex wonder of creation. He breaks into a run and leaps from the edge. The air surges past his streamlined form as he plunges ever closer to the earth. Finally he flexes his shoulders and spreads his wings. The rapid fall turns into soaring, sweeping arcs as he spirals closer to his goal. He is in no hurry, time means nothing to him. There is a satisfaction in flight that he does not find in any of his other abilities. With lazy flaps of his out stretched wings he climbs a little before swooping in to circle the Garden. It is only now that he is closer and observing that he sees something out of place and terribly wrong.

 

“Dean! Dean! Wake up dude.”

Sam’s voice is thick with sleep, but the concern is evident. At the sound of his brother’s voice Dean drags himself from the clutches of his nightmare. He’s safe on solid ground in a cheap motel in, he can’t remember where, with Sam looking at him from the other queen sized bed.

“I’m fine Sammy. Go back to sleep.”

Sam yawns as he flops back down onto his lumpy mattress. He’s asleep again in less than two seconds. Dean slowly eases himself back against the thin pillow. Sleep will take longer for him; it always does after a flying nightmare. The details are never clear, but the terror feels damn real.

 

“He dreams of flying, brother.”

“Yes Castiel. He is the sword of Michael and on some level his flesh knows and remembers that.”

“Why does it disturb him so?”

“I do not know brother. Come Castiel. There is much to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is a mangled version of a lyric from Tears for Fears song Mad World. Sorry.


End file.
